


this bitter taste

by atemzug



Category: BTOB
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Ambiguous Relationships, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26375029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atemzug/pseuds/atemzug
Summary: It feels to Changsub as though life passes by just as quickly as smoke dissipates.
Relationships: Lee Changsub/Lee Minhyuk
Kudos: 3





	this bitter taste

**Author's Note:**

> what is this...
> 
> title taken from ['cigarette break' by gavin james](https://open.spotify.com/track/1Z22PUNWbYuRZp44SU30ZP?si=KwMF6gT-QZKZSWuMld5wuQ)

The familiar pop between his teeth. The familiar color of his lighter's flame and the embers it leaves on the thin stick he now holds between his fingers. The familiar smell of smoke as he blows it past his lips, mixing with the cold breeze the lonely night brings. These are what have been giving Changsub comfort the past few months.

He watches as the smoke swirls, getting thinner the farther it goes, until it completely disappears into the night sky, which he looks upon. Several stars are dotting the dark blanket covering the entire city, wispy clouds barely hiding the way they twinkle. He wonders which one of those decided his fate.

Most nights, it feels to him as though this is all his hands are good for: bringing a cigarette up to his lips, back and forth until it’s all burnt up to the butt and his fingers start feeling cold again.

It feels so empty.

Changsub knows it’s not true. His hands are precious, many people have told him. Rough, calloused fingers made stronger by time, made nimble by years of playing the snare drums.

Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he could feel it – every beat he’s ever played – almost as if it’s his own heart. He can hear every sound, every beautiful melody the orchestra’s ever made. It resonates, deep within him.

Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he feels alive.

When he opens them again, it’s always to his cigarette burning too fast, its embers searing his skin ever so slightly.

He hisses as he flicks the cigarette butt away.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s always to the ugly scar running from his left palm all the way to his arm. A glaring reminder of all the years that have gone to waste.

“Careful, now.”

Changsub shifts his gaze from the tattoo that covered his arm, to the guy who’s walking towards him, stopping a good few feet away to light up his own cigarette.

He watches as Minhyuk takes a long drag, inhaling deeply, before letting his breath out slowly, the smoke blocking his face from view. They’ve been here enough times for Changsub to know the other male does this when he’s particularly stressed.

Some nights, it feels to him as though this is all his hands are good for: bringing a cigarette up to his lips, back and forth until it’s all burnt up to the butt and he has to light another one just so he could drag the moment longer.

It feels a little pointless.

But it's not true. Minhyuk has told Changsub countless times how good his hands were to him. And yet it's still not enough for Changsub to believe. 

“You’re staring,” Minhyuk says without looking. He takes another drag, this time longer.

“You’re wearing a suit,” Changsub replies. They’ve been here enough times for him to know that Minhyuk goes home first before coming round this corner.

“Oh, this?” Minhyuk looks at his clothes and shrugs. “I look good, don’t I?” He laughs when Changsub only makes a face, then adds, “Went to some wedding earlier.”

“Whose?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Minhyuk looks at him directly for the firs time tonight. “Mine,” he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Changsub’s hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette a few inches from his lips. “You’re right,” he tells Minhyuk, “I do not believe you.” Then he takes a hit, letting the smoke fill his lungs until he can hear Minhyuk’s laughing fit slowly come to an end. It sounds just like one of those pieces he’d once played with his friends, growing fainter and fainter by the second until it completely stops.

“An old friend,” Minhyuk explains. His voice sounds soft, fond even, and sad. It sounds like the piece Hyunsik had recorded and let Changsub listen to when he was at the hospital, right before he announced that he was quitting the orchestra. "I was the best man, you know?" 

Changsub raises an eyebrow, the cigarette once again in between his lips.

He doesn't recall when exactly they started regularly meeting like this, but he remembers the first time they met. It was at the concert hall, the day right after Changsub had just gotten stitches, and they'd run into each other in the bathroom. 

"What happened to your arm?" Minhyuk asked him, gesturing at his bandaged arm. Only, back then he wasn't Minhyuk to Changsub yet, just the pretty guy who was kind of nosy, whose right arm was in a cast. 

"Accident while I was skateboarding," Changsub answered curtly. 

Minhyuk had looked like he was going to say something else, but just then someone came in looking for him, telling him they had to go. "Sorry about your injury," he said when he passed Changsub on his way out, as if he knew more than he should've. 

Changsub remembers that day clearly. That was the last time he ever set foot in the concert hall, to watch the performance he was supposed to be in had he not fallen down his stupid skateboard and injured his arm. 

Back then, he couldn't have known they would somehow end up in this situation. 

"I'm leaving tomorrow night, by the way," Minhyuk says after a while. "I mentioned it before, right?"

"Thought you said you weren't taking the offer?" Changsub replies.

A sigh.

"Didn't think I'd _have_ to," Minhyuk admits.

"Japan's nice."

"Yeah. Maybe I'd enjoy it there so much, I wouldn't even think of going back here."

"If all that's left here are bad memories, why come back, anyway?"

"You're right," Minhyuk agrees. "But there's you here."

A pause. 

"But that's not enough," says Changsub. His voice is light but firm.

There's silence between them. It's not unusual. It's not like they've ever really had things to talk about, or even time to talk. Minhyuk doesn't say anything. Changsub doesn't want him to. It's always really been this way.

He takes one last drag, long and heavy. He can already tell the taste is going to last in his mouth for too long.

Sometimes, he closes his eyes and feels his life pass him by. He opens them at the same time he lets the smoke out and the embers of his cigarette singe his fingers once again. Only this time, he lets it linger a bit, until Minhyuk flicks it out if his fingers with his own.

And just like that, it’s over.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/crashingfalling)


End file.
